Scars
by HotaruGFC
Summary: Grief affects everyone differently. And the time of Shuriki left many suffering. Sometimes it is easier to handle, and sometimes it is easier to ignore it, even when all your friends know that something is wrong.
1. After the Fall

The whole city was jubilant after its liberation by Princess Elena. Mateo stood among the throng, watching as she snapped the old witch's wand in two, as she ascended the stairs of the palace as their new leader. His heart swelled with pride when the true Avaloran flag was raised. He was still amazed that he had played a role in all of this. The events of the last day or so made his head spin. As he watched her, he felt his heart beat faster. From the moment he saw her, he knew that he would do anything for her. Even if he was his typical clumsy, screw-up self, he would give her his all.

He watched her greet the crowd and felt torn. He desperately wanted her attention, but he was also desperately overwhelmed by the thought of being call to her side out of the crowd. Fortunately, Elena did not stay in the spotlight for too long. She was quickly circulating through the crowd again. As he lost sight of her, Mateo felt the weight of what they had done come crashing in on him. She had changed things, but she would not have been able to do so without his help. The events of the day replayed in his mind—from the arrival of Princess Sophia at his gate to the moment Elena stood at the head of the people of the city, where she was meant to be. His mother's words to him before he left with her echoed through his mind.

"Mateo." She had pulled him aside from the small group that had gathered within the courtyard at their home. "Come with me." He followed his mother into the house. He helped her move aside a heavy cabinet where his mother revealed a hidden niche. Reaching in, his mother pulled out a long wrapped up package.

"Your grandfather hid this here before he left. I was going to show you when you were older, but I guess now is the right time to give it to you." She laid the packaged on the table and pulled back the fabric. Inside was a scroll and the most beautiful tamborita he had ever seen. "This is the spell that will save the princess' family, and the tamborita your grandfather used to put them there." She held it out to him. He took it gingerly, awestruck. "Mateo, I know that I have been hard on you, discouraging you from learning magic, but you have to understand my fear."

"I know, Mama."

"After your brother and sisters…" Rafa started. Mateo hugged his mother.

"I understand, Mama."

"Promise me, Mateo, if you can, find out what happened to them?"

"I promise." He said, feeling the weight of her request. She placed a hand on her cheek, a proud smile on her face.

"They would be so proud of you, my son. Proud that you have the chance to act in this moment."

"But what if I fail?" he asked uncertainly.

"You will not. Your grandmother knew, but I was too deaf to hear and too blind to see. This moment was meant for you and only you. You will succeed, Mateo." She embraced her son before allowing him to rejoin the team that would launch a sneak attack on the palace.

Mateo was deep in thought when Elena touched his arm. Her touch startled him back to the celebration.

"Mateo? This is my cousin, Esteban." She said, introducing the older gentleman, who really needed no introduction. Esteban had made himself invaluable to Shuriki during her reign. As such, he was quite well known throughout the kingdom.

"Chancellor Esteban." He corrected, glancing at Elena. "I hear we have you to thank for releasing our family from the painting. If there is anything I can do for you, please just ask." He was about to move off into the crowd.

"Actually, Chancellor, there is something." He met the older man's eyes.

"Yes?" Esteban asked impatiently before looking into the young wizard's eyes and seeing the pain there.

"I'm looking for information." Mateo glanced at Elena, whose attention had been drawn from the two men. "About my family."

"Ah, I see." Esteban looked around for someone, but everyone was caught up in the celebration. "Mateo, was it?"

Mateo nodded.

"Right. Today is not the best time, but come back to the palace tomorrow, and I will help you find the information you seek."

Relief washed over Mateo.

"Thank you, Chancellor."

Mateo approached the palace the following morning. An air of celebration still filled the city, but the palace was quiet. He marveled at how the atmosphere of the place had changed in just a few hours. Before it had seemed oppressive, dark, almost foreboding. Now, the palace itself seemed as if it were dancing. It was light and airy, filled with color, music and laughter. The guards at the gate let him pass without even asking who he was. At the top of the stairs, before crossing the threshold of the palace, a guard finally stopped him.

"I, uh, I'm here to meet with Chancellor Esteban?" Mateo said, his nervousness creeping through his voice as he answered the question posed to him. "I'm Mateo de Alma, Alacazar's grandson."

"Yes, the Chancellor is expecting you. You may await him in the library." The guard responded, accompanying Mateo to a room lined with more books than he could imagine.

"I will let the chancellor know you are here." The guard said, before leaving Mateo alone among the knowledge-lined walls.

"I wonder how long I'll have to wait." Mateo said to himself. "And if they would mind if I…" he pulled a book from the shelf. He looked around as if he might get in trouble for touching one of the texts. Satisfied that no one saw, or if they did that they would not reprimand him, Mateo found a cushy chair and took a seat to start reading.

He was already halfway through the book when Chancellor Esteban walked in.

"I apologize for taking so long to meet with you Mateo. Guaranteeing a smooth transition of power is far more challenging than it seems."

"Oh, I haven't been waiting long." Mateo said, before looking at the clock on the mantle. "Well, at least it hasn't felt like that long." He chuckled nervously as he put the book down.

"The History of Avalor?" Esteban asked, glancing at the title.

"Finding out the truth. It's… it's fascinating actually, after only being told about what Shuriki wanted us to know."

"Yes, I suppose it is." Esteban said, taking stock of the teenager. Mateo shifted his weight nervously as he was scrutinized.

"You remind me of him, you know." Esteban said at last.

"Of who?"

"Your grandfather."

"Oh." Mateo said, chuckling nervously once more and scratching at the back on his head.

"Come with me." Esteban commanded as he walked quickly toward the door. Mateo had to practically run to catch up and felt like he kept running the whole time they walked to keep up with the taller man. Esteban reminisced as they walked.

"Your grandfather was a good man. He offered to teach me magic once, but I have no skill for it. He was… well, he was a good man." Esteban said.

"I wish I had known him." Mateo said longingly as they entered into another room lined with books.

"This is the records room. If there is any place you will find information about your family, it will be here. What happened to them and when?"

"It was… about seven years ago. My sisters disappeared. I don't know the details, but rumor had it that they were working with a resistance group. I never got the full story—not even from my mother. My brother was taken from our home about six years ago."

"Let's see." Esteban looked through the books, trying to find the one he wanted, that might reveal the information desired. He pulled a two of the large tomes from one of the shelves. He opened the first book and pushed it toward Mateo on the other side of the table before opening the second.

"What is your brother's name?" Esteban asked.

"Um, it's Enrique. Enrique de Alma."

"Your sisters will likely be in there."

Mateo nodded before turning his attention to the book. It did not take him long to find mention of both of his sisters. They had both been arrested for sedition against the crown, along with many other conspirators. Note was made one each of their entries about their lineage and whether or not they used magic during their arrest. Both entries also made note of their date of execution. Mateo had not known what he had expected to find, but he had long assumed that his sisters were indeed dead. Still, the confirmation that the old witch had executed them without even a trial or notifying their family cut through him like a knife to the heart. He leaned heavily on the table and squeezed his eyes shut against the tears he felt forming.

"I've found your brother." Esteban said after a quiet moment searching. "I…" He broke off when he looked up to see the young man struggling with his emotions. "I think you know what happened." He said softly. "I am sorry."

Mateo nodded his understanding, but found that he could not speak else he scream. He could feel the fire of magic burning through him, demanding release as he released his grief, but he could not answer that call here, inside the palace. He tried to breath deeply, fighting the shakiness of each inhale as he fought for control of his emotions.

"Thank you, Chancellor." He managed to whisper as he closed the book in front of him. "We had been assuming they were dead for a long time, but it was important to my mother that we know for certain."

"Of course." Esteban replied. "I only wish I had better news. Wait. I might…" Esteban walked quickly to the back of the records room and pulled out a small box. "Shuriki usually let the soldiers divvy up things, but she kept these from your siblings. It is only right that you and your mother have them."

Mateo took the box gingerly, afraid it might explode at his touch, or erupt in flames. But the small wooden box sat there unaffected by his touch or his grief. He wanted to open it, but was also frightened of what he might find. He decided to wait until he was with his mother.

"Thank you." He said quietly again. "Maybe now we can finally lay them to rest." He smiled weakly. "I've taken enough of your time, Chancellor. Have a good day." His voice sounded hallow in his ears as he spoke, and he moved mechanically toward the door clutching the box to his chest. He heard Elena call to him as he walked to the door, but he kept walking. Suddenly the castle which had been so full of promise since the day before felt oppressive once again, despite the brightness of the walls.

"Mateo! Wait!" Elena said, nearly at his ear, as she placed her hand on his arm. "Didn't you hear me?"

Mateo tried to smile as he turned to her, but he somehow could not make it reach his eyes.

"Elena! Sorry, I didn't. Must have been lost in thought."

"What are you doing here?" She asked, getting her breathing under control.

"Hmm? Oh, Chancellor Esteban gave me something that belonged to my… grandfather." He lied. He was not ready to share his pain. "He told me about it yesterday. I guess it was his payment for my assistance in freeing your family." His voice caught on the word.

"Oh, well, you should stay for dinner. My grandmother is making tamales." She said, enticingly, smiling up at him. "Of course, she's been stuck in a painting for forty-one years, so she might be a little rusty, but they are still bound to be delicious!" Her eyes lit up as she spoke. The look on her face brought a genuine smile to Mateo's.

"That sounds… wonderful, Elena." And it did. Any other day, he would have given anything to spend more time with her. It was very difficult to tell her now when she looked at him the way she was then.

"Great!" she had not heard the hesitation in his voice.

"But my mother is expecting me. I really have to leave." It also did not help matters that he had not told his mother where he was going, and he had already been gone most of the day. Elena looked crestfallen.

"Oh. OK." She said before she touched his arm again. "But you'll be at the ball tomorrow night, right?" The hopeful look on her face made him feel all melty and tingly inside.

"Of course." He smiled as her face lit up once again. He loved to see her smile. He would give anything to see that smile for the rest of his life. But now he had to leave. "Bye, Elena." He said, turning to the door once again. Elena's arms around his waist stopped him cold in his tracks. His heart thudded against his chest as he laid her head against his back.

"Thank you, Mateo." She whispered. "For everything."


	2. Interment

Author's Note: This has been kicking around for a while, but with the holidays and the end of the semester, I've not had time to type it up. Hope you enjoy. Also apologies for any misspelling of Spanish words. I am mostly relying on closed captioning for their spelling, and that is not always that good.

Mateo walked into the house still clutching the small wooden box to his chest. He held it like a tether that kept him bound to forces unseen and was reluctant to let it go, even to show his mother, who had as much a right to it as he did. He leaned heavily against the door as it shut behind him.

"Mateo? Where have you been? School was canceled because of the parties." His mother inquired from the stove where she was preparing dinner. Mateo took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma that reminded him of his childhood and family meals spent around a large wooden table. It was the scent of laughter and companionship. It made him feel like he had a place, that he belonged.

"It smells delicious, Mama." He placed the box on the table before embracing his mother. He knew what he had a difficult task in telling her what he had learned. "I was at the palace." He said uncertain of where to begin.

"Oh?" His mother turned to him, her eyes hopeful. She knew why he had gone. Mateo opened his mouth to speak several times before he handed her the small box. He could not bring himself to say the words no matter how desperately he wanted to tell her. He found his usual spot at the table. He could feel her eyes questioning him, but he had become mute. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to trace the wood graining in the table planks to avoid having to look up at her. Eventually her gaze shifted from him to the box in her hands as she joined him at the table.

The box hit the table with a soft thud as Rafa placed it in front of her. Mateo glanced up at her then and saw resigned understanding covering her face like a caul. The lid made a rasping sound as she slid it off of the top of the box, as if the wood had swollen over the years, making it fit too tightly. She set the lid gently to the side. Mateo watched as tears slowly rolled down his cheeks, unbidden. She was reluctant to look at the box's contents.

"So this is all that is left of them, of my children, your brother and sisters?"

Mateo nodded. He still could not find his voice.

"And she killed them, didn't she? For some meaningless slight." Rafa nearly spat at the mention of the sorceress who became queen.

Mateo nodded again. They sat in silence looking at the box but not within it. Mateo wondered if the records could be wrong, that maybe his brother or one of his sisters had escaped somewhere and were living out their lives in secret. It was a fanciful hope, like the lie he had told himself since he was ten, and it was quickly squashed as images of the record books floated through his mind once more. _There was no reason to make record of them if the records were not true,_ he thought.

They continued to sit silently, hoping the box would reveal some secret if they stared long enough, something that would make this terrible truth into a lie. But Mateo could not fully curb his curiosity. Once his tears had dried, he leaned over and looked into the box.

It was nearly empty, save for two lockets, three strips of red cloth, and a ring. Mateo recognized them all. The lockets were his sisters'; they each had had their own with a small sketch of the other inside, otherwise they were identical, down to the engraving on the front. The ring had been a gift to his brother upon his coming of age. It had belonged to their paternal grandfather and had been passed down from father to son for many generations. The three red strips of fabric had come from one of his grandfather's robes, and was identical to the one he also wore around his neck. He had worn it ever since he could remember. His grandmother had told him that it would protect him, that it had some of his grandfather's magic in it to keep him safe. Leaning back, he his own tie between his fingers thoughtfully. He glanced at his mother who sat with her eyes closed and a steady stream of tears rolling down her cheeks.

"We will inter this with your father and grandmother. Their spirits need rest; they have been waiting for a long time." She placed the lid back on the box. Wiping her eyes on her cuff, she went back to her work at the stove. "I will make arrangements tomorrow." Mateo looked at the box, curiosity warring with grief within him. He wanted to touch each of the objects, to see if he could feel his siblings, if it somehow triggered his memories of them, but his mother had made it quite clear that she was done with that box of trinkets for the day.

He had not wanted to go. He never wanted to go, but Mateo knew better than to make his mother go alone to the graveyard. She had tried to hide it, to put on a strong face, but the confirmation of the death of her other children had devastated her. So, despite how much he hated going to the cemetery, Mateo had insisted on going with her to make the arrangements of their memorial. He had almost insisted that he go alone to speak to the grounds-keeper about arranging for the interment of the last remnants of his lost family, but his mother would not hear of it. She felt it was her duty as much as he felt it was his to keep this pain from her.

And so they walked together in silence. His mother clutched the precious wooden box to her chest much as he had done the day before. He glanced over at her as she wiped a tear from her cheek. He wanted to comfort her, but felt that anything he could do or say would be inadequate. He settled for putting his arm around her shoulders, but still it did not seem like it was enough.

While he had wanted to spare her this pain, Mateo was also immensely grateful for her presence. With her there, he had to be strong; so he knew that he could be strong. It was for her sake, so he could do it. He was not as confident of his ability to find that strength if he was alone. And as long as she was there, and he had to be strong for her, he could ignore the bleeding of his own soul.

The discussion with the caretaker and the ceremony took less time that he imagined they would. In fact, he had been surprised that they had been able to hold the ceremony that day. He had expected to return later that week to finalize everything, but they were able to watch the workers open the crypt and then seal it once more after the earthly remains of his siblings had been added to the bones of his father, grandmother and the rest of his ancestors. While the ceremony had been short and to the point, he and his mother stayed at the mausoleum for what seemed like an eternity watching the workers, and then just staring at the newly placed marble slab. The engraver would later inscribe the names of his siblings, their birth and death dates into the gleaming white stone, the caretaker told them. He saw his mother cringe a bit when she was told how much she would have to pay for his services, but he knew that she would find some way to pay the exorbitant fee.

Mateo wondered if he could use magic to do the engraving himself. He was sure he had read something about a spell to do a similar task, but he could not remember it. If he was more confident of his skills, he might have tried anyway, but he worried about what could go wrong if he failed in the attempt. He chose to not risk trying for his mother's sake, but wondered if he would have felt so inadequate if he had had more practice.

 _But what does it matter, really?_ He thought. _No matter how much I practice, I never seem to get any better—it never seems to be any easier._

"Come, Mateo." His mother said, turning at last from the grave. Her voice was weighted down with grief. "Let's go home."

Mateo took one long look at the grave before turning to follow her. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of the palace in the distance. It made him think of the grand adventure he had had only two days prior. It made him think of Elena, and how he had felt standing by her side. He wondered if he would ever see her again, or if she would ever think of him. Sure they had run into each other when he had retrieved the box from Chancellor Esteban, and she had seemed amiable enough then, but he was sure that with time, it would be as if they had never met.

As he followed his mother down the stone path, the moment ended. Tomorrow was a new day—a normal day. Mateo only hoped that he could make it through.

The next day as in fact not a normal day. Nor was the day after or the day after that. The city was in full celebration mode for nearly a week after the defeat of Shuriki and before anyone thought to reopen the school. Mateo knew this for certain because he had been attempting to go to school every day since the trip to the graveyard. Grief hung over his home like a dark storm cloud and he was anxious to be anywhere but home. He felt he brought a bit of that cloud with him, but the celebratory air in the city helped to temper it—or at least mask it for a while. And the joy in the city was palpable. There was music everywhere he went—bands playing, people singing, dancing in the street. It was more music than he had ever heard in his entire life. The only times he had heard music in the streets like this as a child was at major holidays like Navidad and Dia de los Muertos. Even Shuriki could not kill those celebrations. Still, the memory of those holidays pales in comparison to the party surrounding him now. It was as if the Spirit of Avalor has been laying in its sick bed and was suddenly revived with the restoration of the royal family, with the restoration of Elena. He sighed the thought of her.

As much as the fiesta brought a smile to his face, eventually something would trigger his memories of those lost fighting for this moment throughout the years. His sisters would have been overjoyed with the revolution. He thought that they would have been rather impressed by the princess as well. He knew that he was, in so many ways. Her grace and determination were inspiring. It also did not hurt that she was stunningly beautiful, he thought as his cheeks grew warm. He knew that his first impression had to have been incredibly awkward, what with him sliding off of a jaquin's head, but in that moment, when she first looked at him, he felt… something. He could not quite describe it,but it was there and he felt that it was important. It was so important that it had brought him toward the palace several times during the week long celebration. He wanted to see her again—to have her look at him the way she had when they first met, but ever time he had gotten close to the palace, something tugged at him, like the black cloud of grief hanging over him, and he turned away.

The palace, itself, drew forth memories, both sweet and bitter. He longed to hold on to the sweet ones—the ones where he was a hero to the princess for saving her family, but they flitted from his mind quickly, only to be replaced by the bitterness of his loss. Though he ached to see Elena again, he wondered if it would be for the best to avoid the pain that this placed seemed to bring to him. He stared through the arched gateway, now standing open for all to enter, wondering if his brother and sisters had lost their lives in the courtyard before him, or another part of the palace all together. He wondered if Shuriki had killed them herself, or if one of her guards had been ordered to end their lives. A coach whizzed past him as he looked into the courtyard. He did not see who was within, but he felt the occupant's eyes on him as it passed. As another coach sped up the road, he decided it was probably time to leave the palace, and never return.

The next day, school had resumed, though it was quite different from school under Shuriki. In fact, most of the teachers were at a loss of what to actually teach. Shuriki had been so strict with her indoctrination of the young, that most classes were scripted. So even though he was surrounded by familiar people in a familiar setting, there was a strange sense of newness to the class. All of the desks had been rearranged when he had walked in—late again, though this time it was the celebration in the city distracting him, not his personal studies. The only seat left in the circle of desks was next to his sometimes partner, Naomi Turner. He smiled nervously at her as he sat down. He would not go so far as to say they were friends, but they were both outcasts in their own way, and so usually found it better to band together than to go it alone. Still, he had not really talked to her outside of class stuff in a couple of months, not since she had kissed him one day after class. It… didn't really go well.

"Hey, Naomi." He said, shyly as he laid out his notebook and pen just so.

"Mateo." Her voice was stiff and business-like. Before they could say more, the teacher started class. It was literature class and he had assigned them each the task of writing something, anything about their hopes for the future now that Shuriki was out of power.

"How will things be different now? Will they be better? How have you celebrated? What is the biggest change you have experienced so far?" the instructor said jovially. It was plain to see that he was enjoying his job much more now that he could allow the students some creativity. Once given their instructions, the class worked in silence. Mateo stared at a blank page in his notebook, trying to find words to express how he felt about everything that had happened. He took a deep breath and set his pen to paper. Before he knew it, he had poured his heart out onto the pages of the leather bound journal—one that was so much like his grandfathers, he would not have been able to tell the difference if he had not written his name in the cover. The verse covered three pages by the time the teacher called for the class to stop and share what they had written. Mateo closed the book and shrank down into his chair as much as he could. He always seemed to screw up anything that he had to share with the class and especially did not want to share the raw grief that was his work. Unfortunately, his movement only drew the teacher's attention toward him.

"Mateo, would you like to share?"

 _Crap_ , Mateo thought. He had forgotten about the new circular arrangement of the classroom.

"Not especially." He said nervously. Truthfully, he was terrified, and now mortified that he had been so impolite to his teacher.

"Maybe in a bit, then." The teacher said before calling on another student. As the girl droned on about the parties she had gone to and the dancing she had done since Elena took over, Mateo flipped back to the pages in his notebook and read them again. The words stabbed his heart with memories. It was not the joyous celebration that his teacher expected, not by a long shot.

"Mateo. Your turn."

Mateo looked up startled as the entire class looked at him.

"Huh?"

"Everyone else has gone. It's your turn." The instructor informed him.

"Oh." Mateo blushed heavily. He had not realized he had zoned out so much during the readings. He took a deep centering breath before starting to read the words on the page.

"The bells ring,

Children dance,

Children sing,

Yet they've never known,

They are ignorant of what has come before.

Joy spreads through the city

Infecting all it touches

But the city forgets

Those it has lost

Those who have fought

Those who have failed

Those who have died.

While the city sings,

A family weeps.

A small wooden box and the treasures it keeps.

The memories rush back,

Both bitter and sweet,

As the box is opened then closed again.

Two lockets, a ring.

Three ribbons of red.

All that remain

Of now treasured dead.

Walled up now, safe and secure,

Resting with ancestors,

Forgotten no more.

But the tears keep coming

And the keening never dies

For a mother who has lost so much.

For a brother who is now alone.

While the city celebrates,

The missing are forgotten."

The students and the teachers stared at him in silence for a long noticed that several wiped their cheeks. He wondered why, because he did not think that it was actually that good of a poem, but it was what came to him. He looked around before closing his notebook, grabbing his things and leaving the room. He heard Naomi call to him from the door as he rushed down the hallway. He practically ran from the building and kept his fevered pace all the way home. Once there, he escaped even further into his own world, his sanctuary and spent the rest of the day practicing his magic.


	3. Dia de los Muertos

The months had been going well since Elena took the throne as Crown Princess. Mateo had been incredibly flattered that she chose him to serve as her royal wizard, even if he, himself, did not feel up to the job. It was nice, though, to be close to her every day, plus he got to see the inner workings of the palace and how the nation as a whole ran. Overall it was an interesting experience, and one that kept his mind from wandering to the darker places within. The books within the workshop they had found kept him occupied and having work to do kept the sadness at bay.

Until, however, Elena started talking about Dia de Los Muertos.

Usually, Mateo welcomed her company, but since the fall had started and preparations had begun for the celebration, he had found her a bit insufferable. She had been so enthusiastic about the event, and making sure it was perfect that it was driving him a little crazy. He just wanted to ignore the entire day, and he would if he had his way. But between Elena and his mother, the chances of that happening were slim to none. Elena kept asking him for spells or potions to help make the day better, but he just wanted to be left alone.

He was in the mood for solitude when she found him the day before the party.

"Mateo?" Elena called as she entered the workshop, chipper as ever. He groaned inwardly before looking up from the Codex, but tried to match her voice as she approached.

"What can I do for you, Elena?" The sunshine facade he gave felt so fake that it broke his heart a little. He hated lying to her, and the cover overlaying his dark mood felt distinctly like a lie.

"Oh. Did I disturb you?" she asked, noticing the open book.

"Just doing some reading." He replied. 'And avoiding…' he added in his head.

"Sorry." She said, meeting his eyes. He felt himself gasp a bit, and hoped she did not notice. Despite the blackness of his mood, she still managed to dazzle him. "I was just wondering if you were going to come to the graveyard tomorrow night with us."

Mateo took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.

"I… I think my mom wanted to spend the holiday together." He replied. He had not actually talked to his mother yet, but he was certain that she would expect him to go with her. He wanted to do that even less than he wanted to bump into Elena at the cemetery.

"Oh. Ok." She seemed a bit taken aback by his response. "No, that's fine. You should spend it with your family. I just…" She trailed off, as if she was not sure what she wanted to say. He watched as she shifted nervously before him for a moment before remembering something else to ask.

"Oh yes, Did you have time to make that potion that I asked about? The one for the fires?" She had wanted something that they could sprinkle into the flames to turn them colors. He reached behind him and grabbed a small bottle of multicolored crystals and slide it across the table to her, before turning back to his book without another word. He could feel her eyes on him as she stood there. It made him fidget as he tried to get back to work.

"Mateo?" she called to him, her voice colored with concern. "Are you alright?"

He looked up at her, to see worry etched on her features as she gripped the small bottle tightly to her chest. He tried to smile at her. It felt awkward, but she seemed to relax when she saw it.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He tried to reassure her. He was not fine, in fact, but he did not want to talk about why, not right now, not with her. "I just… I need to work."

"Oh, alright." She said, but she did not seem to want to leave. After standing there looking at him awkwardly for a moment, Elena leaned across the table and kissed him on the cheek. She hurried out of the room, leaving him to stare after her. As the door slid shut behind her, he brought his hand to the spot she had kissed, wondering why she had done it.

He sighed heavily and collapsed onto the table. He picked at the corner of the Codex, flicking its yellowed pages with his fingertips. He could not focus. He had not been able to focus much before, but now Elena's actions had scattered what little ability he had to concentrate to the winds. His eyes darted around the room, as he suddenly felt it constricting around him. The air had grown oppressive, and the flickering light of the magical lamps were menacing. He had to get out—out of the workshop, out of the palace. He even wanted to get out of city, but knew that would not be possible. Frustrated and anxious, Mateo shed his wizard's robe and left for home.

Normally, he loved walking through the city. The character of it had changed so much since Elena cast out the usurper; it seemed new and alive in a way he had not experienced before. It was as if she had been a midwife birthing a new Avalor into existence after a long, hard labor. Every face he met was always so optimistic, he could not help reveling in the vibrant energy.

But not today.

As Elena had been preparing for the festival of the dead, so too, had Avalor City. Sugar skulls met him at every turn, and the smell of sweet breads filled the air. Children played with skeleton marionettes as they danced and ran through the streets. Once, an eternity ago, he had been like them, reveling in the sweets that made the bitterness of death that much easier to handle. But today, the specter of those he lost and the pain of their absence weighed heavily on him. He knew, in his mind, that the festival was a way to help cope with that loss, to remember those who have left, but his heart was not in it. In fact, it felt as if his heart had been torn to shreds. He hurried through the newer sections of the city on his way home, cradling the tatters of his fractured heart and soul within himself, wishing that he was six years old again, and as carefree as the children he passed on his way.

"Mami, I'm home." He called as he entered the old house. The smells that had haunted him on the streets filled the house. He felt bile rise in his throat as a fiery anger filled him. Closing his eyes, he tried to calm himself. The confirmation of his siblings' deaths had been difficult for them both. It was only logical that his mother would use the traditions of the holiday to try to ease the pain, he realized, smiling wryly. The thought did little to curb his anger, so he buried it deeply within him.

"Mateo? You're back so soon." She looked at him for a long moment, trying to read his posture. If she had learned anything, she did not let on. "No matter, I need you to run an errand for me, now that you're old enough."

"Sure, Mami." He followed her into the large kitchen, where she had bread of various shapes spread over the table. "Oh, wow. You've been busy." He said, looking over the result of her labor. She had already been hard at work when he had left for the palace that morning.

"I have, and there is still more to do, which is why I need you to run to the taberna and get something for your father. You remember what he likes?" She asked as she pulled more goodies from the oven.

"Yes, I remember." He winced as she spoke of him like he was still here and would walk through the door any minute.

"Good, now hurry. I will need your help bringing all of this to the graveyard and setting up the altar."

Mateo sighed as he headed back out the door to what had been his father's favorite watering hole. His mother had been as bad as Elena with all of the Dia de Los Muertos preparations, perhaps more so. She had gotten it in her head that she would need to build the grandest altar she could to honor the children she had lost. It all seemed a little silly to Mateo. After all, it wasn't as if they had just died, he thought, they had been missing for years.

The walk to the tavern was short, but each step made Mateo more anxious. He knew where it was and had vague recollections of going there as a child. The owner always greeted him kindly when they saw each other, but he had not passed this way since he started attending the secondary school in the newer part of the city. The building, when he reached it, looked just as he had remembered, though it seemed a little more run-down and aged. A couple of old men sat outside playing a game and he could smell a distinctive combination of smoke, grease and human occupation emanating from the door. He took a deep, centering breath before walking inside, steeling himself for what he might face.

The tavern's interior was dark and musty. It was lit by only a few lamps and two thick beams of sunlight streaking across the floor. The few occupants seemed as if they were avoiding contact with the light, as Mateo sensed shifting movement from the darkest of corners. The atmosphere was not as he remembered, but the last time he had stepped inside this building had been a day of celebration, not one of mourning. Six years ago, the place had been vibrant and exciting—one could even say the atmosphere was raucous when his father had brought both of his boys to celebrate Enrique's sixteenth birthday. Mateo had not been able to participate in everything they had done, but he had been thrilled to have been brought along as they celebrated his brother's coming of age and crossing into manhood. He smiled at the memory that had surfaced and continued to the bar, where the owner was hunched over some ledgers.

"Excuse me. My mother sent me to pick up some seco for my father's altar." He leaned against the bar as he tried to catch the owner's attention. The man's grizzled face had not changed since he last saw it, but his hair had grown white and shone against his sun-darkened skin. He held up a finger to Mateo as he continued writing some figures down in his books. Dark, shining eyes smiled at him as the old man looked up from his work.

"Sorry about that, but the mind isn't as sharp as it used to be." He joked. Mateo forced a smile. "Seco, eh?" He leaned down behind the bar and pulled out a rounded glass bottle filled with clear liquid. He squinted at Mateo as he placed the bottle on the table.

"Aren't you Rafa and Alfonso's boy? Mateo?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. I am."

"You've certainly grown up since I last saw you." The old bartender smiled a large toothy grin. "And now I hear you are working in the palace? Royal Wizard, right?"

"Yeah." Mateo was beginning to feel a little anxious. He just wanted to get home, but the old man continued, and Mateo was too polite to just leave.

"It sure is a shame what happened to you brother and father. Alfonso was a good man." Mateo reached for the bottle as the other seemed to gaze into the past. The motion must have caught his attention, because he continued. "How old are you now? You must be, what? Fifteen?"

"Sixteen, actually." Mateo pulled the bottle to his chest as the old man's expression changed.

"Sixteen, huh?" he said sadly. "If Alfonso was alive, we would have had a big party for you by now. Oh man, he got your brother so drunk on his sixteenth birthday."

The mention of his brother brought a smile to Mateo's face.

"I remember. Enrique had to be carried home." He said laughing.

"And you, you kept wanting a cup too, so your father gave you a little taste of his and you practically threw up." The owner laughed heartily.

"It's not my fault seco is too bitter for a ten year old." Mateo wiped a tear from his eyes. As their laughter died down, the owner's voice turned serious.

"Mateo, I know your father's not here, but we have traditions, ways to mark the passage into manhood. You need to uphold them. Your father was a good friend. I will help you in his memory, if you would like."

"I… I'll think about it." Mateo replied. "How much for the bottle?"

The owner shook his head.

"It's a gift. For your father and your sixteenth birthday."

"Thank you." Mateo held tightly to the bottle as he walked out of the tavern.

On the way home, he thought long about what the tavern owner had said, about his father and the last time he had been there. It had not been too long before his father died that they had celebrated his brother's coming of age. He had not thought about how the loss of his father and brother would affect his growth into adulthood before, but now he felt an aching longing for their presence. He desperately wanted to be in the place his brother had occupied so many years before, with the two of them standing by, supporting him and the transition. It had not been until that moment that he had realized how lost he felt on his way from boy to man.

He was quiet, introspective as he entered the house. The sounds of his mother's baking had subsided, but the smells lingered. He felt his stomach rumble as he walked into the kitchen to find his mother packaging up the treats. He placed the bottle on the table beside her before sneaking a bit of sweet bread from the bundle she was about to tie up.

"Mateo!" She called after him, as he ran up the stairs to his bedroom.

The room was dark, and the late afternoon sun made the dust in the air glitter and dance on the currents as Mateo laid back on his bed. The tavern owner's voice echoed in his head. He had never really thought about the traditions that accompanied growing up. Part of him, he guessed, had thought that it did not matter, or that everything would be alright without it. After all, it was just a party, or so he remembered.

But as he watched the dancing motes above him, they seemed to coalesce into faces, or bodies. The world blurred around him as he watched their movements and saw his family—complete, whole—gathered around him. Everyone was smiling and there was music and dancing. His siblings—wizards in their own right both embraced his new adulthood, and ribbed on him for all of the mistakes he made getting there. His sister, having followed their grandfather's footsteps as Royal Wizard, presented him to the queen.

Her eyes were familiar despite the aged face in which they were set. The held the same mischievous and adventurous spirit that Elena's had. He realized then that the old queen was Elena—the Elena that would have been had it not been for Shuriki. A large ruby sat at her throat that he knew was the amulet that had trapped her, confirming his thought. He felt his heart clench as tears streamed down his cheeks as he watched the scene unfold. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, he was back in the attic room that he had once shared with his brother.

"Mateo! It is time to go!" His mother called to him from the first floor of the house.

He hastily brushed the tears from his eyes before heading down stairs.


End file.
